


Not Good At It

by Anonymous



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Anal Fingering, Begging, Blow Job, Dirty Talk, Gender Neutral Self Insert, Hand Job, Orgasm Denial, Other, Overstimulation, Self Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 08:03:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18961186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Dan worries that he's not good enough for you. You try to assuage his fears.





	Not Good At It

You realized that something was up when Dan sidled up to you. It was, admittedly, a pretty good sidle - Dan had a lot of _limb_ to work with, which always makes a good sidle easier. You were washing dishes, humming along to the radio playing in the background, when Dan just... sidled up.

"Hey," you said, and you smiled at him, only a little bit shy. "I know you wanted to do these, but it always bugs me when they're just sitting out..."

"Nah, it's fine," said Dan, and he grinned at you, looking faintly sheepish. "I kept meaning to get to them, and then getting, y'know, distracted." 

You wondered if sheepish suited his face so well because of all that lovely curly hair, or if there was something about his demeanor. Probably about a fifty-fifty split, come to think of it. 

"So what's up?" You set the last dish onto the drying rack, then reached for his hand, taking it in your pruney fingers, kissing the back of it.

He took your hand in his own, and his knuckles bulged when he squeezed your fingers in turn. "Does something have to be up for me to want to keep you company?"

"I mean, no," you said, "but usually you're not just hanging out to hang out."

"I like you," Dan said earnestly. 

You gave him a Look, one eyebrow up, and he snickered, looking amused in spite of himself. 

"Listen," he said, and he opened his mouth to say something else. Then he closed it. 

"I'm listening," you told him.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, and he made a faintly dismissive hand gesture. "So, uh... you wanna watch a movie?"

"What's got you so twitchy?" You laced your fingers with his, and he sighed, one of his big thumbs brushing against the back of your knuckles.

"Just thinking about... you know, stuff," Dan said, and he cleared his throat, looking awkward.

"Stuff," you echoed. 

"Stuff," Dan agreed. He sighed, and he let go of your hand. "I'm having a whole bunch of feelings and trying to figure out how to put them into words," he said, after a moment. "Which isn't a really good way of putting it, but I can't think of any other way to."

"It's okay," you said, patting him on the shoulder. "I know that this stuff can be complicated."

"You don't even know what the stuff I'm talking about _is_ ," said Dan. 

"Well, no, but I know you tend to ruminate like a cow over anything that's bothering you," you told him. 

"You know, if I had the stomach of a cow I might have better luck," said Dan, his tone thoughtful. "Considering what my guts are like."

You snorted, and you patted him on the cheek. "I'm not gonna try to yank out whatever it is that you're thinking about out of your mind," you told him. "I know you'll tell me in time."

"You sure have a lot of faith in me," said Dan, and he looked very tired all of a sudden.

"I know you," you told him. "I know that your brain sometimes chases itself in circles."

He sighed. "I wish I could turn it off," he said, and he sounded genuinely forlorn.

"I'm sorry," you told him, and you patted him on the arm. "Maybe you just need to turn your brain off for a little bit?"

"How would turning my brain off help me get my thoughts in order? I use my brain for my thougths." 

You prodded him in the side, and he made an indignant noise, and prodded you back, right in the one tickle spot.

You made an undignified noise, poking him in the ribs this time. He squealed - actually _squealed_ \- and grabbed your wrists in his hands, squeezing them. 

"That's not fair," he told you. "You're cheating." 

"Cheating at what, exactly?" You grinned at hm, one eyebrw up,and he leaned forward and kissed you, right on the mouth.

You kissed him back - a quick brush of lips, then pulling back. "I'm up for watching almost anything," you told him, and then you stretched, your back arching. You were sore from leaning over the sink - you need to stop doing that. 

"What, anything anything?" He perked up.

"Not football highlights," you told him.

"I don't watch football highlights," Dan protested, holding both hands up defensively. 

"You were watching them yesterday!"

"That was different," Dan said, although he was laughing, just a bit. "I wanted to check something!"

"So you watched football highlights," you supplied.

"Okay, yes, but I don't just... pop a whole tape of football highlights into the VCR -"

"Who uses a VCR in the first place," you interrupted.

Dan put a hand over your hand, presumably to keep you from putting in any snarky commentary. You resisted the urge to lick his hand, but only barely. “My brain is still stuck back to when people still used VCRs,” he told you. 

“What, the stone age,” you said around the muffling hand.

He rolled his eyes, and rested his head on top of your head. “My _point_ ,” he said, “and I do have one - is that I don’t just watch football highlights. I usually have my own reason for watching them.”

“What was the reason this time?” 

“I needed to prove something to someone,” he said. 

“Did you make a bet?”

“Nothing as crass as a bet,” Dan said. “Just… you know. Got into a bit of an argument about the details about something.”

“The details,” you said, and your voice was flat. You fixed him with a Look, and he seemed to wilt, which was, admittedly, pretty cute. 

“It was complicated,” he whined.

You snorted. “So no football highlights,” you told him. “What else were you thinking of?”

“Just not a horror movie, and I’m good,” he said.

“What is it with you and your hatred of horror movies?”

“I’m an utter wuss,” Dan said, with utmost confidence. “I don’t like scary shit.” 

“You’re missing out on one of the basic human experiences,” you told him earnestly, more to yank his chain than because you meant anything by it.

“Isn’t “basic” an insult amongst the kids these days?” 

"Everything is an insult these days," you said, with some authority. "It's all in how you say it." 

"That's not a these days thing, babe," said Dan. "That's how it's always been."

"And people have always told scary stories," you said, circling back to your original topic with some effort. "You should watch a scary movie with me."

"If we watch a scary movie together, I am going to be hiding my face for most of it," he told you. 

You rolled your eyes, but you kissed him on the cheek, one hand on his shoulder. "Some day, I'm going to help you be less of a wuss," you told him.

"I thought my wussitude was one of the things you liked about me," he said. 

"Isn't _Alien_ one of your favorite movies?" 

"It and _Aliens_ ," said Dan. 

"Those are both scifi horror!"

"I mean, yeah, but... that's different," said Dan.

You snorted. 

"It is!" He protested. "It's a famous cultural touchstone!"

"So is _Nightmare on Elm Street_ , and you still hid behind the couch for a good chunk of it."

"I wasn't hiding behind the couch," Dan protested. "I had to go get a glass of water!"

"For fifteen minutes?" 

He stuck his tongue out at you, and you kissed him, right on the mouth. You liked the way that he melted against you, his hands on your shoulders, his long, lanky body pressing into yours. "It's a scary movie," he mumbled. 

"You missed the bit where they had the guy upside down," you mumbled. 

"I thought that they had the _girl_ upside down," said Dan. "You were gushing about that."

"I mean, okay, yes, you're right, but... we're talking about a behind the scenes versus actually on the screen stuff," you said. 

"You're such a nerd," Dan said affectionately, and he ruffled your hair. "If you choose a scary movie, I'm going to hide my face in your shoulder like the cowardly little bitch that I am."

"I can live with that," you said, and you squeezed his fingers.

He grinned at you, and then he stretched, his arms over his head and his back. There was so _much_ of him - rawboned and long, with pale, soft skin. You wanted to press your face into his chest, wanted to kiss along his jaw and run your hands up and down his sides, feeling his ribs. 

You weren't usually this physically demonstrative, but the two of you had gotten more... friendly, since you got together. You're getting better at being feelsy, and he's getting better at being... feels-ed. 

"You okay, babe?" He looked at you, slightly concerned.

"Yeah," you said. "Yeah, sorry. A metaphor derailed in my head." 

"Never met a for I didn't like," Dan said, almost on automatic.

"Go pick out a movie, Groucho," you said. "I just need to finish cleaning up."

"You sure you don't want me to help?"

"Nah," you said. "I'll be fine."

* * *

He ended up putting on _Shaun of the Dead_ , which wasn't exactly a scary movie as these things are judged, but it did have a lot of gore. He did a full body shiver at the right moments, which always made you snicker. You leaned into him, your head resting on his chest, and he stroked your hair. 

"Do you ever wonder about, uh... about what it would be like to kinda... try something different?" His voice was quiet, and it rumbled through your head.

"What kind of different?" You let your eyes drift shut, as Nick Frost gave some great speech. 

"You know," said Dan, and he let the statement hang in the air.

"Not really," you said, still not moving. You were too comfortable, too tired. 

"Just... like..." He made a slightly annoyed noise, and you went a little stiff. Was he mad at you? 

"Like?" 

"Like... you know, like... maybe switching things up a bit. Trying new, exciting things."

"What kind of new, exciting things?" You sat up, just a bit, so that your head was more on his shoulder, and he gave you another squeeze.

"The kind of new, exciting things that usually involve, like... maybe something a little less... vanilla. In the bedroom." His voice was very calm; almost artificially so.

You paused, and then you began to snicker. You couldn't entirely help it - this whole thing was such a _Dan_ scenario. He'd probably working himself up to talking about this all day. Maybe he'd even been subtle about it - he'd been trying to get you to bring the subject up himself, somehow, because he can be passive like that. 

(Not necessarily passive _aggressive_ , per se, but passive in that he wanted you to take the lead. Although now that you thought about it, that was kinky in and of itself, wasn't it?). 

"So what kind of less vanilla stuff?" You tried to sound serious, and not like you wanted to laugh at him. Even though you kind of did want to laugh at him. Just a little bit. Not, like, meanly, but still. 

“I dunno,” Dan said, and his voice was so casual it very clearly wasn’t.

“Well,” you said, snuggling into his bony frame, “when you’ve figured out what it was that you want, I’m sure we can figure it out then.”

“You’re not going to try to… y’know, help me figure it out?” Dan’s voice was plaintive.

You peeked an eye open at him, to see his anxious expression hovering over you like an especially neurotic moon. “Babe,” you told him, “I love you,” and wow, but your stomach did an anxious little flutter at that, “but I’m not playing twenty questions about your desires with you. That sounds like it would get pretty tedious for both of us.”

“I don’t think it’d be tedious,” Dan said. “I’d want to figure out what it is that’s bothering you.” 

“Yeah, but if you had to pry it out of me like a bad tooth, I feel like it’d probably get on your nerves.”

“... Yeah, okay, fair,” said Dan, and he made a face. “Why do you have to be so reasonable all the time?”

“I’m just a jerk like that,” you said. 

"The absolute _worst_ ," Dan agreed. "The absolute fuckin' worst."

You snort, stretching and rubbing his eyes, two thirds asleep. "Let's table this discussion," you suggested. "I'm tired." 

"I'm sorry," said Dan. "I shouldn't be so focused on -"

"Dan," you said, interrupting him mid anxious babble, "I'm totally okay with us talking about this stuff. But _right now_ , I'm tired. Is that okay?"

"Are you seriously asking me if it's okay for you to be tired?" Now Dan looked skeptical. 

You stuck your tongue out at him, and he poked it with the tip of his finger. "You need to be tired, be tired," he told you. "Regardless of what kinda sex we have or... anything like that, do what you need to do."

"That's downright philosophical," you told him drowsily, and then you were wriggling, your head in his lap. You sighed, as one of his big hands rested on your forehead, gently tracing the line of your nose, down towards the bow of your lips. 

"I can be thoughtful sometimes," he said, and he sounded faintly insulted. "Why does everyone think that I'm just some dumbass?"

"Everyone doesn't think you're some dumbass," you said. 

"Do _you_ think I'm some dumbass?" There was a note of tension in the back of his voice.

"I mean," you said, just to feel him squirm a little bit. Then you sighed. "No," you told him, keeping your tone serious. "I very much do _not_ think you're a dumbass. You're a very smart dude."

"So why do you always seem so surprised when I say something especially deep?"

"To put it bluntly, you make your living making dick jokes," you said. "I know that I can't really judge someone based on their sense of humor alone, but dick jokes do not always make for big philosophical discussion."

"Hey now," said Dan, and he was giggling a little bit in spite of himself. "It's not just dick jokes. Sometimes it's _songs_ that are also dick jokes!"

"Which means they're still dick jokes," you pointed out.

"Well, okay, yes, they are still dick jokes, but it takes more effort to think up a dick joke with a rhyme scheme."

"That's probably why I don't try," you said, keeping your tone amicable.

"I can't really argue with that," said Dan. "Although if you don't reach for the moon -"

"I'll never die in the cold, endless vacuum of space?" You suggested.

You were poking him - you _knew_ you were poking him, mainly because you weren't a romantic the way he was. It was one of the reasons the two of you got on so well - he pulled you out of it when you got too logical, you yanked him down to earth when he was too up in the clouds. 

"You might end up among the stars," Dan said firmly.

"And then get burnt into a cinder," you affirmed.

He groaned, covering your face with one of his big hands. "You're impossible," he told you, his voice fond.

"I do my best," you agreed, and you yawned again, a little wider this time. He shivered, as your lips moved against his palm. You always forgot how sensitive he could be. 

* * *

You woke up with him curled up around you the next morning, his face in your hair, one of his hands low on your belly. He was snoring, his hips grinding just a bit; clearly, he was having some kind of dream. You weren't sure what kind, but it was doing something to him. You let him snuggle in, let him moan against you, let him squirm and hump. There was something endearing about it - your own arousal was beginning to slide through you, leaving you shaking. 

You'd have to get up soon, head to work, get ready for the day. But it wasn't "soon" yet, was it? It was very much not "soon" yet.

You rolled over, and he stirred against you, still shirtless in his pajama pants, his cock hard against your thigh. When his hazel eyes blinked open, he looked at you, faintly confused. 

"Wuh?" 

"Hi," you said, and you leaned forward, kissing him. His breath was a little stale this early, and his stubble was scratchy against your face, but that was okay. He sighed against you, his hand coming to your face, his thumb on your cheekbone and his fingers curved against your chin. 

"Hi," he said. "Why are you kissing me this early?"

"Is it too early for kissing?" You rolled your hips forward, just to feel the air rush out of him as he trembled against you.

"Oh, I never said that," he said. "But, uh... this is... oh." He trailed off. 

"Oh?" You gave another roll of your hips, and he gasped against you. 

“I can’t think when you do that,” Dan complained, although he wasn’t making any move to get away from you.

“When I do what?” You gave another exaggerated roll, pressing your thigh between his legs, right up against his dick. It was hot and hard through the thin cotton of his pajama pants, and he made a desperate noise, going very stiff against you.

“When you… you grind on me like that,” Dan mumbled, and now he was blushing. It was hot against your cheek, as you kissed him again, pressing your whole body against his, belly to belly. You kept grinding against him, so that he was basically riding your thigh, and he moaned and sighed, clutching at your shoulders. 

“When I grind against your dick like this, you mean?” You kept your voice sweet - you liked how he went so stiff as you said it, as he clutched at you. “I can feel how hard you are, babe. You’re so hot… I bet you’ve got a wet spot. Do you?” 

"I... might," Dan mumbled, and his face was turning even redder. You were faintly worried about him passing out form it, except... well, how much damage could he do to himself, lying down like that? 

"You only might? Why don't you tell me?" You pressed your thigh up against him, grinding your knee into where it was appreciated, and he groaned like he was in pain. 

"It's embarrassing," he mumbled.

"I bet that's why you're getting so worked up," you told him. "Is that the truth? You're getting off on me telling you what I want."

"I mean," Dan said, and then he laughed, amused in spite of his arousal, "isn't that kind of the point of dirty talk in the first place?"

"I think that some people don't get embarrassed," you told him, side tracked for the moment. "Like... there have to be some people out there who get turned on by saying the various sex words."

Dan paused, and then he was snickering. "The sex words," he said, deadpan. "When you say it like that, you sound like a Zognoid."

You started to giggle again, and you kissed him, your laughter humming against his teeth. "I cannot _believe_ that you just made a Zognoid joke," you told him.

"I'm a genius like that," he said. "I can make a joke about anything, any time."

"I should put that to the test," you said, and you reached down between his legs, curving your palm around his cock and squeezing it. "Tell me a joke."

"Fuck," Dan mumbled, and his hips rocked forward, his mouth falling open. The head of his cock was indeed hot and wet, even through the thin fabric, and he was squirming, pushing his hips forward and humping into your hand. 

You pressed your thumb against the slit, where you could feel more pre-come beading, soaking into the fabric. He was thrashing against you, panting up towards the ceiling, his mouth falling open. You kept your eyes on his face - you liked how red he got, how ugly and open in his pleasure.

"You like this," you told him. "You like me making you feel good, don't you?"

A jerky nod.

"Tell me you like it," you told him, sharper than you meant to.

He blanched, but his eyes were dark when they looked into yours. "I... I like it," he mumbles.

"Say it a little louder," you told him.

"I like it," he said, clearer this time.

"What do you like?"

"I like... I like how your hand feels on my dick," he mumbled. "I like that. It feels nice. It's... it's good."

You snickered, your hand sliding into his pajama pants and giving him a squeeze, from the head of his cock to the tip, spreading his pre-come along the length of it. "Just good?"

"Listen," he told you, his tone breathless and faintly aggravated, but also amused. "I can be eloquent, or I can be sexy. I can't be both."

"Eloquence _is_ sexy," you told him, and you gave him a firm squeeze, twisting your wrist.

"I wrote a song about puppies in space," he mumbled, as his pre-come leaked over your fingers.

"You did," you told him, and you were biting your lip to keep from giggling too hard. 

"That was pretty eloquent, I think. Who doesn't love puppies in space?"

"Didn't they all die in space?" You trailed your fingers along the length of his cock, fingertips skating over the thick vein at the underside, as his cock twitched in your hand.

"That was still eloquent," he panted, and he was fucking into the channel of your fist. "Death can be eloquent."

"Oh my god, Dan," you mumbled, and you were giggling, beginning to pump his cock in earnest now, just to feel him thrash against you.

He sobbed. "Listen," he said, and his voice cracked. " _Listen_."

"I'm listening," you told him. 

"Okay, good," he said, and he bit his lip, his hips wriggling.

You stopped moving your hand, just holding it in place, and he whined. "Why'd you _stop_?"

"You said to listen," you pointed out to him, and you gave him your best grin, which probably looked a bit lopsided when you were lying on your side like this, your face all pillow creased and your hair doing who knew what.

"You can listen and do things at the same time," he groaned, and he made an inelegant noise when you pulled your hand away. "Hey! Why'd you _stop_?"

"Well," you said, "I want to make sure I'm giving the full appreciation of it. Don't want to end up missing anything, do I?" 

"You're really mean," he complained, although there wasn't much weight behind it."

"Yep," you agreed. "The absolute worst."

"I like it when you jerk me off," he said. "I like it a lot."

"Well, yeah," you said. "I should assume so." 

“I like it when you talk to me while you do it,” he said, and he was blushing now, biting his lip. “I like it… I like it a lot. A lot more than I feel like I should.” 

“Why do you feel like you should or shouldn’t?” You ran your hand up and down his sides, your fingers gentle. His skin shivered like some kind of great animal’s, and the rest of him shivered too, his toes curling against your calves where your legs were tangled together. 

“Because there’s… there’s normal,” Dan mumbled, and you slid your hand back down into his pants, a reward for being so honest. “There’s normal,” Dan repeated, as you began to stroke him again, slow and steady. “Normal and... not normal.”

“And you want to be normal?” 

“What am I gonna be if I’m _not_ normal?” Dan sounded genuinely anxious, and your heart went out to him. Poor guy.

“You don’t exactly live a normal life to begin with,” you pointed out. “You don’t _need_ to be normal. There’s plenty of stuff that’s not normal that’s still pretty great.” 

“Well, yeah,” said Dan, “but shouldn’t at least _some_ of my life be normal?” 

You hadn’t realized he was quite so… torn up about all of this. Poor guy really was a neurotic mess, wasn’t he? 

"There's nobody taking notes up in the sky," you told him gently, and your hand sped up. He was pulsing against your palm, and he sounded a bit like he was going to start crying.

"I want to do it _right_ ," Dan said, and his voice broke like a plate.

"Oh, honey," you said, and you took your hand out of his pants, holding his face. Some of his pre-come got on his cheek, but his mouth was hot and soft against yours as he melted into you. 

He broke the kiss, looking over at you, faintly cross eyed. "I always feel weird when you say that," he said. 

"Say what?"

"Say "oh honey" in that tone of voice," he said, and you winced a bit in spite of yourself. 

"Sorry," you said. "I didn't mean it like that."

"It's okay," he said, and he laughed, faintly self deprecating. "I know I'm a mess."

"We're all messes," you said. "That's just how people work. Some people are just better at hiding their messes than other people."

"You think?"

"Oh, totally," you said. "Everyone is fucked up. We just find different ways of expressing it."

He snickered. "You sound so hippy-dippy when you put it like that."

"Well, let's try to get a little less hippy dippy," you said, and you ran a hand across his chest. "What do you want me to do to you? Right now, I mean."

"Um," said Dan. 

"Um?" You echoed, mainly to fuck with him.

"I'd like, uh... whatever you want," Dan said thickly.

"That's not an answer," you told him, possibly a little sharper than you should have, because he winced. "Sorry," you amended. "I just, uh... I have a lot of feelings on the matter."

"Any particular reason why?" He raised an eyebrow, and he looked remarkably thoughtful for a guy who had just been writhing against you a few minutes ago.

You bit your lip, flopping onto your back and staring at the ceiling as you tried to get your thoughts into something approaching order. "I... I don't want to feel like your sex therapist," you said at last, and then you winced, because _wow_ , was that harsh.

"My sex therapist?" Dan's voice was deadpan, but there was a hint of something you didn't entirely understand in it.

"I don't want to have to... to pull your feelings out of you," you said. "Or your kinks. I need to know that what you want is... well, what you want. You know? It's not just you going along with it for the sake of me wanting it. Or me thinking that it's what you want, when it's not actually what you want."

"Oh," said Dan, and then he cleared his throat. He looked sheepish. "You know, I hadn't thought of it like that."

You snorted, and you prodded him in the forehead, just hard enough to make him wince. "Now tell me something you want," you told him.

"I want... I want you to... uh." He cleared his throat, looking everywhere but your face. "I want you to play with my nipples," he said.

You paused, blinked. That wasn't expected. "Your nipples?"

"Yeah," said Dan, and he looked like he wanted to roll over and hide his face.

"I can do that," you said, and you pinched one of them, twisting it between two fingers.

He shuddered, his back arching, his eyes squeezing shut. "Oh," he said, and his voice cracked.

"Oh?" Your voice was teasing. 

"Oh," he said, and then he made a noise like a sob when you twisted it.

"How's that?" You shifted, sitting up so that you could reach all the way across his chest. 

"It's... it's something," he said, and his voice was thick. 

"What kind of something?" You shoved his legs open, then sat between them, your hands squeezing his inner thighs tightly. You liked the way he shuddered against you, liked the way his thighs tensed up under your palms, liked the way he threw his head back when you did it.

"It's... tight in my stomach," he said. "I like it."

"Do you want me to keep doing it?" You trailed your hands up his stomach, over the sparse hair of his happy trail, onto the skinny spot where his ribs stuck out. You cupped his pecs, and you squeezed them, then tugged on his nipple.

Dan made an undignified noise, squirming under you, and he spread his thighs a little wider. " _Fuck_ ," he said, eloquent as ever."

"That's not really an answer," you told him.

"Well, no," he said thickly. "But still." 

“But still?” Another twist, and he arched against you, his back bowing like a bridge.

“I can’t have a discussion when you do that,” he groused, although there wasn’t much grouse in it. 

“You need to work on that,” you told him, and you gave his nipple a tug.

“What, are we about to start having intense intellectual debates while you pinch my nipples?” He looked like he wasn’t sure what was going on.

“It could be fun,” you admitted, although truth be told, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to hold up your end of that equation. 

“You’re mean,” Dan said, his tone plaintive.

“Does that mean you want me to stop?” 

“ _God_ no!”

"Are you _absolutely_ sure?" Your hand rested right above the head of his cock, under his navel.

He made a desperate noise and called out your name. 

"I'm still here," you told him, your voice as sweet as honey. "I'm still here, don't worry, I'm not going anywhere."

He whined, and it was music to your ears. "Please," he said, and he sounded on the edge of _crying_. It sent a delicious thrum of heat deep into your guts and up your spine.

"Please what?" Your fingers hovered over his shaft, just barely touching it. You twisted his nipple with the fingers of your other hand, and he thrashed some more, throwing his head back. His hair made a thick, curly halo around his head on the pillow, and with the sunlight dappling in from the bedroom window, he looked like a Renaissance painting. Maybe some angel, or a shepherd. 

"Please, I want it so badly," he gasped. 

"Want what?" The very tips of your fingers skated over the sides of his cock, and it twitched against them, against his belly. 

"I want to come, please," he said. 

"How do you want to come?" You twisted his nipple, and his hips bucked upwards, into your hand.

"Any way you want me to," he babbled. "I want to come, please make me come, I want to come for you, I want it so badly, I want, I -"

You grabbed him firmly, and you squeezed him, starting from the base and moving all the way to the head, then back down again in the firm pumping motion that always got him incoherent. 

This time was no different, and he thrashed on top of the covers, his big feet kicking, his leg jiggling as you stroked him and stroked him, your eyes darting between his cock in your fist and his face, as it grew redder and redder.

"Fuck," Dan gasped, and then he was going utterly still, biting his lip. "Fuck, I need... please."

"What do you need, baby?"

"I need you to... I need you to tell me I can," Dan said, his voice thick. "I need your permission."

"Why do you need my permission?" Your tone was downright _sweet_ , as you pressed down on the slit of his cock with the pad of your thumb, spreading more of his pre-come along it. You liked the way that made him cry out. 

"I just... I..." He sobbed, and yeah, no, those were tears dripping down his face.

You kissed his shoulder, temporarily trapping his cock between your two bodies, and you nipped that same spot. His cock twitched against you, and then you sat up again, beginning to pump his cock in your fist. "Do it," you told him.

"Do I have... do I have your permission?" His voice cracked, and he was taking deep, heaving breaths, his whole chest rising up and down like a bellows.

"You have my permission," you told him. "Do it. Come for me. Come for me, Dan, c'mon, I want you to come, I..."

He cried out as he came, his back arching, his cock pulsing in your hand like a star. You jerked him through it, and you _kept_ jerking him, as he whined and whimpered, already oversensitive, still hard in your hand, softening a little bit, but not by much. "Oh," he mumbled.

"Oh?" You rubbed his come into the soft skin of his belly, and he squirmed under you. 

"You're... you like that," he said, and he sounded faintly surprised.

"Like what?"

"Well... me," said Dan, and he sounded so lost that your heart broke, just a little bit. 

"Of course I like you," you told him, and maybe your tone came out a little bit harsher than you meant it to, because he flinched. "Sorry," he mumbled.

" No, no," you told him quickly. "I'm not mad at you. I promise, I'm not."

He sighed, and he looked faintly sheepish. "I'm sorry," he said, in a moment of self awareness. "I think I'm killing the sexy."

You shrugged. "Sexy is like Cthulhu," you told him. 

"... What?" He looked at you, baffled. 

"It can eternal lie," you told him earnestly. 

"You are such a fucking dork," he told you, but he was grinning wider. 

"Are you complaining?"

"Not at all," said Dan. "Just... wow." He sighed, and he gave a full body shiver as you kissed him, right on the mouth - a brush of lips on lips, almost chaste. Then you kissed him again, harder, your tongue in his mouth, your hand still pumping his overstimulated cock. He was jerking against you, but he was taking it, trembling like he was cold. 

"You like it when I do that?" You kept your voice very quiet. 

"Yeah," he said, his chest resonating against yours. "Yeah, very much so. It's... it's a lot." 

“A good a lot, or a bad a lot?” You nipped the gentle spot under his jaw, and he went even more limp.

“Both,” he said. 

“Does that mean you want me to stop?” You stilled your hand.

“Please _don’t_ ,” he said thickly. “Please don’t ever stop. It’s… good. It’s very good.” 

“Do you like it?” 

“I don’t know if it’s a matter of liking it or not,” Dan said, his tone surprisingly contemplative. “But it’s… it’s definitely something that I don’t want you to stop.”

“That’s downright _insightful_ ,” you told him, and you squeezed his cock again, just to feel it pulse in your fingers. 

“You don’t need to sound so surprised,” Dan said, and he humped shallowly into your hand. “Wow, that’s… that’s intense.”

“I kind of want to blow you,” you told him. “Would you want that?”

“I… I certainly wouldn’t be against that,” he said. 

“That’s not the same as saying that you want it,” you told him seriously.

“You’re really one for semantics, aren’t you?” 

“What can I say,” you said, and you gave him another squeeze, with a little twist of your wrist. “I’m thorough like that.”

“Thorough is good,” he said. “It’s very good.”

“You still haven’t given me an answer, though.” 

"Asking me if I want a blow job is like asking me if I want to _breathe_ ," said Dan. "I always want a blow job. If it's a day that ends in "y" and I'm not assuming room temperature, I want a blow job."

You paused. "Turning room temperature?" That was a new one.

"You know. Dying. Dead. When you're dead you start to go room temperature, because..." It was his turn to pause. "This isn't very sexy, is it?"

"I'm always happy to pause a good ol' sexy time for a discussion about semantics," you said earnestly, mainly to watch his face do the thing where he tried to hide the panic. 

"I mean -" He began.

"You mean," you interrupted.

He huffed, blowing his hair out of his face. "I can't think when you do that," he said.

You gave him another long, slow stroke, adding a little twist at the end, spreading more wetness along the head of his cock.

He gasped, humping into your hand.

"You mean this?" You did it again, and then you removed your hand completely, leaving his cock bouncing against his belly. 

"That's _worse_ ," Dan whined, and it was a full blown whine now. You were a bit impressed at just how... grating it managed to be. 

"How is it worse? I'm letting you think now, aren't I?" You sat back on your heels, letting him look up and down the length of your naked body. His eyes on you were like standing under a hot shower, letting the water roll across your skin. You smiled at him, and he smiled back, even through his hazy, dark eyes. 

"I hate you," he said, but his tone was affectionate.

"No you don't," you said. "So... do you want me to blow you?"

"I want you to blow me," he said, and he was only blushing a little bit. "I want you to blow me, and..."

"And?" You raised an eyebrow. 

Dan sighed, and he covered his face with those ridiculously big hands of his. "Why do you have to look at me like that?"

"Because if I tried to look at you without my eyes it wouldn't really work," you said, deadpan. 

"Oh my god," Dan groaned. "You're gonna be the death of me."

"Possibly," you said, "but if you die, you'll have died from really good sex or annoying pedantry. Both of which seem to be things that you'd like to go out with."

"I'm not that pedantic," Dan grumbled. 

"I mean, you can be," you said, then; "you know what might be fun?"

"A whole bunch of things," said Dan, squirming on the bed. His cock was still leaking pre-come across his belly. He had a little puddle of it by now. 

"What if I blew you and fingered you at the same time?" You suggested it as if it was just a... thing you were offering, and not something that you'd been thinking about for a while.

He flushed. "Like, your fingers in my butt?"

"Yeah," you said. "If you'd... be interested in that." It wasn't the first time you'd casually mentioned that you'd be interested in butt stuff, but it was the first time you'd mentioned it as more than a vague hypothetical. 

"I'd be interested, yeah," he said. "I mean... not, like... interested-interested. I don't _need_ it if you wanted to change your mind for... whatever reason." 

You groaned, and you pinched him on the thigh. He made an indignant noise, squirming, and you grinned a bit in spite of yourself. "I offered it," you reminded him. "You don't need to tie yourself into a pretzel in order to agree to feel like you can do the sexy thing I'm offering to do with you."

"I mean, yeah, it's easy when you say it like that," he said, and he rubbed his face with both hands, looking vaguely distressed for a moment. "I might have a few hang ups, okay?"

"It's okay," you told him, and you took his hand in your own, kissing the backs of his knuckles. He sighed, and didn't even complain about how sticky you were getting him, with his own pre-come. "Just as long as you're willing to deal with them."

He nodded, biting his lip. "I'm willing," he said.

"Do you want me to finger you?'

"I mean," he said, "I _did_ just say that I'm willing."

"Just because you're willing doesn't mean you want it right now," you told him, more to see him make an annoyed face than because you felt like being much of a pedantic ass.

"I want it," he said. "Right now, I want it. I want you to finger my ass. Give me a blow job and finger me ass."

“Both at once,” you said, getting up from between his legs and going to rummage through the bedside table. “Aren’t you greedy.”

“Where are you going?” He looked at you, his eyes wide and genuinely distressed. “Are you not -”

“Babe,” you told him, and you took his face in both of your hands, pressing your foreheads together. Leaning over like this wasn't exactly _pleasant_ on your back, but he seemed to need the reassurance. “I can’t finger you without lube. I’m not going in dry, because that would be unpleasant for both of us, but especially you.”

“Oh,” said Dan, and then he laughed, flopping back onto the bed, his hands in his hair. “I must look like an idiot.”

“Nah,” you told him, and you mostly meant it, as you got the lube out from the drawer. “You’re cute.”

“I am a sexy rock star,” he told you, making a vague hand motion. “And don’t you forget it.”

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive, y’know,” you said, coming back to sit between his spread thighs, now holding the bottle of lube. “You can be both.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Dan. making a dismissive hand gesture.

“You’re being awfully bratty for someone who’s expecting a blow job,” you told him pointedly. 

"A thousand pardons," Dan said quickly. "I'm just not used to, y'know... being topped."

You snorted, and you opened the lube, drizzling some of it onto your fingers. "Babe," you told him, "I love you. Like, a lot. But you... you're not exactly the toppiest top that ever topped." 

"I could be," Dan protested. 

"I mean, we could all be a lot of things," you told him, as your hand slid lower, behind his balls. "We can, in theory, be _anything_."

He snorted, and the moment had lost some of its gravity. "You sound like a weird motivational poster," he told you.

"I do my best," you agreed, and your hand was sliding up between the cheeks of his ass, probing gently with the tip of your finger. You found his hole, and you pressed down - didn't even try to push in yet, just pressed.

He froze, shivering, his mouth falling open, and you made eye contact with you. "Are you okay?"

He nodded, licking his lips. He was shaking. "I'm okay," he said.

"Is this okay?" You circled your finger around his hole, and he kept squirming, his hips pressing back against your hand. You pinched his ass (there isn't much to pinch), and he wriggled against you, spreading his legs a little wider. 

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, it's, uh... I don't have a lot of experience. With this. This kind of thing." 

"You mean butt stuff?" The very tip of your finger slid inside of him, and it really was a good thing that you'd cut your nails the day before. 

"Yeah," said Dan. "Yeah, exactly. Butt stuff." 

"I mean," you said, "I don't exactly know a ton about it either, apart from what I've read about it."

"Right," said Dan. "I think you've probably done a bit more research than I have."

You shrugged."I've done a bit of research," you allowed, "but that's also the sort of person I am." You let the very tip of your finger slide inside of him, and he went utterly still. 

"Oh," he said, his voice thick.

"Oh?" You slid your finger a little deeper - your hands weren't as big as his were, so he probably got deeper inside of himself when he was trying to get off. Then again, he was shivering against you, and you hadn't even reached your second knuckle, so maybe you were getting somewhere.

"It's a little... I mean, it's not bad," he said slowly, "but it's a little bit... intense. I think I like it."

"Do you?" You twisted your finger inside of him, and he was hot and velvety inside, squeezing around you. He gave a little hitching gasp, and you went a little deeper. 

"Yeah," he said, and his voice was thick. "Yeah, I like it. I... it's good."

"I'm glad it's good," you said, and you began to thrust a little bit, until you were as deep as you could get, curving your finger inside of him, feeling around for his prostate. You'd read about that, at least - you kind of knew what you were looking for.

He sighed, going limp and boneless on the bed, his heels digging into the bed, rolling his hips up to meet your hand. He threw his head back, his mouth falling open, and you twisted your finger, as he wriggled and clenched around you. 

"You like that?" You were talking, just a little bit, to fill the silence. Well, not silence - he was panting, his mouth open, his chest rising and falling as he took deep, gasping breaths. But... still. "What do you like about it?"

"It's... it's full," said Dan. "Not in a bad way, but it's... it's different. I like it. I like it, but it's weird."

You grinned a bit, and you twisted your finger, still feeling around inside of him, until you felt a different texture. Then he froze, his whole body going utterly stiff, then completely limp. 

" _Fuck_ ," Dan said, and his voice cracked. "I hadn't realized I... I had one of those."

"What, a prostate?" You pressed down on it again, a little harder this time, and his hips twitched forward, his cock twitching against his belly. He was starting to drool more come across his belly, leaving a wet puddle. 

"Well, okay, yeah, no, I know that I had one, obviously I had one, that's how it works, but... still." He was babbling, and he seemed to be aware that he was babbling, because he was covering his mouth with one hand. "Sorry."

"Don't do that," you said sharply, and you began to withdraw your finger. "If you hide your noises, I'm not gonna keep doing this."

"What? No! Please!" 

“No what?” You kept your finger in place, flexing it a little bit, and he froze. 

“No, don’t stop please,” he said meekly. 

“Don’t stop what?”

“Don’t… don’t stop fingering my ass,” he said, and he swallowed, his throat clicking.

“Are you sure? Because if you’re not sure -”’

“I’m sure,” he interrupted.

“What are you so sure of?” You smiled at him when he glared at you, his jaw clenched.

“I’m sure that I like it,” he said, and he shuddered, a full body shudder. “I… i like it a lot. I like having your finger in my ass.”

“Do you want me to keep fingering you?” You thrust your finger back inside of him, and he gasped, throwing his head back. 

“I do,” said Dan. “I want you to keep fingering me. Please keep fingering my ass, it’s… it’s really good, please keep fingering my ass.” 

“Good boy,” you told him, and then you were surprised, as his face began to turn red. It wasn’t just any red, either - it was a full on flush, starting from his chin and going all the way up to his hairline. 

His cock was still drooling - so much pre-come, slippery and wet. It was matting down the thin line of hair under his navel. "It... it's a lot more than I thought it would be," he said.

"Is it?" You twisted your finger, and then you withdrew them, to drool more lube onto two fingers this time, sliding them in. You liked the way he clenched, and the way his whole body went tense, then utterly relaxed. 

"Yeah," he said. "Because your hands aren't that big."

You snorted. "As small as your ass is, I feel like I could have, like... half as much hand." You were thrusting now, curling against his prostate. 

"Like... mmm, fuck. Like in... in Game of Thrones?" His hips were chasing after your fingers, your knuckles pressing into the cheeks of his ass. 

"What?" You blinked at him, confused. 

"You know. The Halfhand? The one really tough dude - I think he was a ranger?"

"Dan," you said, "I'm fingering your ass and you're talking about _Game of Thrones_?!" 

"I've got my priorities," he said.

"So you want to talk about Game of Thrones more than you want me to keep fingering you?" You made as if to withdraw your fingers.

"No!" He said quickly. "No, no, I'm sorry."

"Do you still want me to keep fingering you?" There was something so delightfully evil about teasing him like this. You hadn't realized you had this much mean in you.

"I want you to keep fingering me," Dan said, and there was a ragged edge to his voice. "Why do you keep asking me that?"

"Because I like asking you that," you told him, as if that was a totally reasonable answer, and you began to thrust a little harder, the muscles of your shoulder flexing. "I like making you say it."

"You're kind of mean," he said, and his long fingers were clenching by his sides, his knuckles beginning to turn white.

"Yep," you agreed, "but you don't seem to be complaining." You reached down, and you wrapped your hand around his cock, giving it a long, slow stroke. You liked the way that he gasped, going utterly still. His cock twitched in your hand, flexing, and you leaned forward awkwardly, licking the tip of his cock. His pre-come was thin and salty against your tongue, and then you opened your mouth a little wider, so you could take it in. You had to be careful - he was big enough that you'd been known to gag on it in the past, which would ruin the fun for everyone else. 

He sighed, and his hands were going to his hair now, twisting it around and around his fingers. He shuddered, his cock twitching in your mouth, and you made a wet, obscene sound, swirling your tongue along the very tip of his cock. You jabbed your tongue into the slit of it, and he went very, very still, the muscles of his stomach flexing desperately.

You pulled off of him with a "pop" and looked up at him through your eyelashes. "You okay, babe?" 

"If you keep doing that, I'm going to come," he said thickly.

"What do you mean by "that," exactly?" You gave him a gentle stroke, your hands barely touching his shaft.

He made a gut shot, broken sound, thrashing against the bed. He was humping up into your fist, and you kept your hand open and loose. "You're being a jerk," he groaned, and he twisted his hair even harder. "You're... being... I..."

"Yes?" Your tone was innocent, as you spread your fingers inside of him.

He whined in the back of his throat, another broken sound. He was turning bright red, his hair a wild disarray, his eyes dark and open. He looked like a fucking mess, and your own arousal was twisting in your guts, your heartbeat hard and heavy between your legs. "You're... fuck!"

"I'm fucking you, yes," you said, and you still your fingers, stilled your fist. He was still thrashing like a worm on a hook, but he wasn't getting anywhere with it. You grinned at him, your eyebrows going up, and he whined again, longer and harder.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take," he said, and then his voice broke like a plate.

"How much more of what?" You ran a fingertip along his side, collecting his pre-come. 

"More... of... y'know..." He made a vague hand gesture, indicating the two of you, the sweaty, wrinkled bed, the whole everything.

"You want more bedroom? We're already in the bedroom," you told him, your tone serene.

He hissed at you like a cat, and then he looked surprised at his own reaction. You, in turn, snickered, because holy shit, what the hell? 

"Dude," you told him, "I think you're going a little bit incoherent." You spread your fingers inside of him again, because you could, and he went utterly still, then groaned. 

“I sure wonder why,” he said in a voice as flat as Kansas. “God, you’re… mm, yes, there, that’s… that’s a good spot. Please don’t stop… that, _fuck_!” He was thrashing now, his head thrown back, his mouth falling open. His hips were jerking forward, and you took your hand off of his cock completely, pushing his thighs open and squeezing one so you could watch your fingers sink into him, again and again. He took it so pretty. 

“You look so hot this way,” you told him, and maybe that was a bit too… intensely sincere, but sometimes you needed intense sincerity. “You… I really like seeing you like this. Begging for it, squirming like this. You’re really hot, y’know that?”

He was blushing again, all the way to his chest, and he licked his lips. “Thanks,” he said, and his voice was thick. “I’m glad you… I’m glad you like it. Me. All of me, I mean.”

“Why wouldn’t I like you?” You began to thrust your fingers again, slower this time. You curled them, pressing them down against his prostate, and he went utterly rigid, his cock twitching like a tuning fork. 

"I don't _know_ ," he wailed. "I don't know a lot of things, I just go along with them because I don't want to look stupid!"

You paused, and then you sped up your thrusting. "Dan," you said, "pull your hair for me." Your stomach did a weird little flop at telling him what to do, and he shivers, looking over his belly at you. 

"What?"

"Your hair," you told him. "Pull your hair." 

"Why?"

"Because _I_ want to pull your hair, but I can't exactly do that from here," you said. "I can't reach."

"Oh," Dan said thickly, and then his fingers were sinking into his own hair, twisting it around his fingers, until it was cutting into the digits. He made a desperate, broken noise, his head pulled back, and you watched his cock twitch again.

"Wow," you said. "You really like that, huh?"

He nodded, and his eyes slid closed, his chest rising and falling as he panted. He was shaking, and if he could sweat, he probably would have been covered in it. 

"Why do you like it?" You twisted your fingers inside of him, and then you began to stroke his cock again, a little harder this time. You curled your fingers inside of him, pressing down on his prostate, stroking his cock in long, slow strokes, just to watch him thrash under you. You liked how desperate he was getting, the way he was sobbing. There were actual tears glimmering in his eyes, and he was panting like he'd been running.

"What?" He blinked at you, confused.

"Why do you like it," you repeated. "What about it do you like it?" 

"Oh," he said, and he licked his lips. "Um. I like... I like how good it feels?"

"Yeah, but _why_ does it feel good?" You watched him pull his hair again, and his cock jumped again. You squeezed it, and his pre-come slicked the way, as you began to jerk him off in earnest. 

"I don't know," he mumbled. 

You stilled your hand again, and he thrashed under you, his chest rising and falling raggedly, his face so red that you were a bit worried he'd pass out. 

"What don't you know, honey?" You were barely touching his cock, but you were thrusting into him with your fingers. 

"I don't... I don't know a lot of things," he said, and his voice cracked. "I don't know how many stars there are, I don't -"

"Dan, I swear to god, if you start getting pedantic on me, I'm going to pinch you someplace delicate," you told him, and you hovered your thumb and forefinger over the head of his cock, just to watch him freeze.

He winced. "I'm not that good at self reflection, okay?" He licked his lips. "I get... I get what you're asking me, and why you're asking me it, but I'm just... I'm not good at it. I'm sorry." 

"Why are you sorry?" You pressed your thumb against his taint, just to feel him tense around you, his eyes going wide and his tongue darting out to wet his lips. 

"Because I'm bad at this," he repeated.

"What are you bad at, specifically?" You began to stroke him again, long, sweet strokes that made him thrash in your hands like a landed fish. 

"I'm bad at... at being with you. I'm bad at being good," he whined, and he was squirming some more. His cock was getting thicker in your hand, harder. It was turning purple in her hand, and this was a whole lot hotter than it had a right to be. You weren't sure _what_ about it was making you feel so intense, but it was washing over you like a wave of desperate, hungry heat. Maybe the way he was arching into your hand, or the way that his cock flexed against his belly. Maybe it was how he was letting his whole body go limp and taut at the same time, or the way he begged. 

You really liked the way he begged.

"You're not bad at being good," you told him, and now you were stroking him some more. "You're doing a good job. You're so hot, god, Dan..."

He whined, low and hard in the back of his throat, and he arched his back, beginning to sob. "I'm going to come, I'm so close, fuck, please, please, _please_!" He began to chant your name, again and again, interspersed with "please" or some other plea, some other bits and pieces of who knew what. 

"Come on. Come on, do it," you told him. "Come for me. Do it. Come for me, Dan, I want to see you come, do it..."

"I'm so... it's... it's gonna... oh _fuck_ ," Dan said, and his voice was ragged. He might have trouble in rehearsal. You'd never hear the end of it from Brian. Although it would be _so_ worth it. You watched his face as he came, his cock throbbing in your hand, spurting across your knuckles, dripping across the back of your fingers. 

"That's it," you said, your voice soothing as you jerked him through it. "That's it, c'mon. Come for me, Dan. Come all over my hand, make a nice big mess for me, there we go…” 

He was sobbing as he came down, but you kept stroking him, squeezing. You squeezed your fingers, and it was a mess of stickiness between your fingers. You squeezed your fist, and his come gave a sensation that could best be described as “squishy” that was both gross and satisfying. 

You squeezed his cock again, and he sighed, shivering. “That’s… that’s a whole lot of… wow.” 

“Do you want me to stop?” You began to stroke his cock, which was going soft, but he was still thrashing.

“No,” he said. “I like the… I think the way you’re… I like you in charge. In charge like this. Can you keep… can you?”

You smiled at him, and you gave him another squeeze. “Good,” you said.


End file.
